


Reassurance

by ilovelocust



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Fear gas, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, One sided crush in second chapter, batfam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovelocust/pseuds/ilovelocust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fear gas may be gone, but that doesn't mean Dick is alright.  Sometime he just has to see for himself that everything is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftershock

**Author's Note:**

> Had writers block all Wednesday. Then right before I got to bed I get inspiration for this fic. Ended up staying up until 3 AM writing. Good news is I finally got a story with more than two speaking characters in it.

It was just a side effect of the fear gas. A lingering aftershock of paranoia, left over after the antidote had neutralized the majority of the toxin. His brain's attempt to understand everything it had just felt, convinced that after all that terror something had to be wrong. Everything couldn't just be fine. He couldn't have just watched his little brothers' dying gasps all for it just to have been some fucked up hallucination.

Long experience had taught him that he couldn't rationalize this feeling away. He wasn't Bruce. He wasn't able to stoically tell himself that it had all been in his head and continue on as if nothing had happened. He needed to physically assure himself that everything was okay before he could really truly believe it.

Thankfully, Bruce understood without having to be told. The Batman could be a socially inept incompetent when it came to his loved ones. Especially when doing so meant he could dismiss said loved ones' arguments, but sometimes, like right now, he could show why he was the world's greatest detective. Before Dick had even clawed his way back to reality, Bruce had wordlessly pulled up a video feed on the bat computer of Titan Tower. On it, Tim was alive and well laughing at some antics of his fellow Titans and friends. No crumpled broken mess of blood and bones at the foot of a skyscraper. Just a happy little brother enjoying his weekend.

Bruce waited to speak until after he managed to pry his attention away from the screen, "Damian's in the main living room." His voice was clipped and efficient, but he'd removed the cowl for the conversation. Letting Dick meet his eyes. One more of those small things that showed he both cared and understood what Dick needed. He hugged him quick and tight before departing, taking the stairs to the manor two at a time.

As promised, Damian was sitting on the living room floor, pieces of homework spread out around him. He was working on some sort of history paper. It took quite a bit of research to separate out what he'd been taught as a child and what his teacher expected to hear. "Grayson?" He questioned, surprised by Dick's sudden harried appearance in the doorway. Dick knew he should slow down, calm himself before moving. Damian tried to hide it, but he was sensitive to Dick's moods. If Dick was uncomfortable or distressed, Damian was doubly so. He couldn't do it, though. He could still hear the echo of Heretic's weird childish voice. It was impossible to be rational when he remembered so clearly what it felt like to hold the boy's lifeless corpse.

He was kneeling beside Damian without really registering the steps he took in-between. His hands reaching out and yanking the kid's shirt up of their own volition. "What are you-Unhand me this instance!" Damian squawked, trying to grabbing at the hem of his shirt and pull it back down. Early age assassin training or not, he was still an eleven year old boy and Dick was a full grown vigilante. There wasn't much he could do to stop Dick from manhandling him without the aid of sharp objects. Sharp objects which he had been convinced through a lot of heart to heart talks were not necessary to carry in the manor.

The lifted shirt revealed Damian's chest, and more importantly the closed and healed scar where the sword had pierced his heart. Dick ran his thumb across it, assuring himself with physical touch that it was no longer leaking his youngest brother's life all over the floor. Damian went rigid at the touch. "Grayson" he hissed. Dick pulled his eyes away from the boy's chest and back to his face. The emotion there were easy to read. As bad a memory as it was for him to have held the empty remains of his Robin, Damian was the one who died. Dick knew for a fact the boy still had nightmares.

"Sorry" Dick whispered, dropping his shirt and pulling Damian into a hug, "I'm sorry. I just, I just needed to know you were…here" He tightened his hug, burying his head into his shoulder, "I love you, okay" Maybe, if he just held him close enough long enough he could stop remembering what it felt like for Damian's skin to go cold.

"Grayson?" Damian's question was quieter this time. Dick could hear the concern in his voice. He was probably scaring him with his antics. He was a horrible older brother. Damian deserved so much better than this, and if he didn't clear things up quick he was going to draw all the wrong conclusions.

Dick pulled away from his shoulder. He cupped Damian's face with his hands and plastered on one of his trademark smiles. "I'm alright. Every thing is okay. I just had a bad run in with Scarecrow earlier. I'm sorry." It bared repeating, "I didn't mean to scare you." He tried for comforting, but he was certain Damian could hear the tightness in his voice, the leftovers of not quite forgotten fear.

Damian scowled at him, "I wasn't scared." His protest was followed by a quick once over of Dick's appearance, "If it will make you feel better, you may continue engaging in your physical affection, though" Damian spread his arms to the side in a gesture to return to hugging him. The smile Dick gave him as he took him up on his offer wasn't faked.

—

Jason was probably going to murder him for the mess he'd made of his security system. After some unashamed on his knees begging and ego stroking, Dick had managed to wheedle the location of the Red Hood's current safe house out of Oracle. He'd gotten definite vibes that she thought he was being ridiculous, but he'd spent one too many evenings assuring himself at a cold headstone that things were done and over with to pass up the chance to ease his persistent fears with a living breathing version of Jay instead.

He was in his civilian clothing as he settled himself on the couch to wait for his brother to get back from patrol. Bruce would have sedated him if he had tried to leave the manor as Nightwing. The man had raised him, and he knew all too well Dick couldn't be trusted to not try and stop some crime or other if he left in his suit. They had a very firm rule, that Bruce broke constantly, about going back out to fight crime the same night as being gassed with a mind altering substance. It was a compromise he was willing to live with in this case.

Fighting Scarecrow and recovering from the gas had taken most the night, so he wasn't waiting long before Jason finished his own patrol and arrived home. He wasn’t surprised by Jason pointing a gun at his head as soon as he spotted him. He just refrained from making any furtive movements until Jay placed exactly who had broken into his home. He waited until Jason had finished his scan of the room to ascertain that Dick was the only one there before he moved towards him. He stopped a couple feet away from his brother. Not moving to hug him just yet. Unlike Damian, Jason very much could stop him from any unexpected touching, and he wasn't shy about doing so.

Jason squared his shoulders at Dick's approach, but he did put the gun away. "First, how did you find this place? Second, why are you here?" Jason demanded. Jay was inspecting him. Eyes glancing him up and down, as if he could ascertain his purpose if he just looked hard enough. It hurt a part of Dick's soul that Jason's default reaction to him was suspicion. Nights like tonight made him wish so hard it was almost physically painful, that he had back the Little Wing who used to greet his unexpected visits with excitement instead of mistrust.

He didn't let any of that pain show on his face, "Oracle, and because I wanted to visit you." He chirped. All his little brothers were uncomfortable with him showing weakness. They seemed to have this mental image of him as some sort of perpetual cheerfulness machine that didn't have off days. It was bad enough he had freaked out Damian earlier. He didn't need to repeat it with Jason. Especially Jason, Jay had enough of his own problems. He didn't need Dick's.

Jason was giving him a disbelieving look, and Dick batted his eyelashes back innocently. Dick had been an entertainer practically since he could walk. He could sell a smile and a fake good mood to even the most skeptical audiences. Jason sighed, not accepting the act "Look Dickiebird, either tell me why you're here or get out. I'm tired, and I don't have the time or the energy to beat around the bush with you."

"Honest, just wanted to hang out. Cross my heart." He added the crossing gesture to emphasize his words, "It's been ages since we spent non-patrol time together."

"So you decided to 'hang out' at 4 AM in the morning" It was a good point, and Dick really didn't have a response for it.

"You know what screw you." There wasn't any venom in his voice, just exhaustion, "I'm going to bed. What ever the hell you want, you can get it in the morning." Jason punctuated his statement by pushing past Dick and heading towards his bedroom.

"Do you mind if I spend the night?" Dick blurted out. It really was a desperation play, but going home now was just asking for a long night of nightmares.

Jason halted his trek to the bedroom spinning back around towards Dick, "What?"

"Do you mind if I spend the night? Like you said its 4 AM, the Manor is really far away. Do you mind if I just crash here for tonight?" His first question had been spur of the moment, but now he was committed, with all the confidence that induced.

Jason stared at him, looking at him as if he was parading around with a big sign that says 'something is wrong'. He really was a terrible older brother, "Are you and Bruce fighting?" He ventured.

The question surprised him. Not that he didn't love his brother, but if he were fighting with Bruce, Jason would not be his first stop. That's why he had the apartment in Bludhaven, "What, no, Bruce and I are fine." Dick replied.

"How about the Demonspawn, you fighting with him?" Jason queried immediately.

"No!" He said a little stronger than what was probably necessary. He was defensive of his and Dami's relationship, so sue him.

"The replace-" Dick cut him off before he could continue through everyone he knew "I'm not fighting with anyone Jason. I just want to spend the night." God, what did Jason think about Dick's relation with the rest of the family, if these were the first things that popped in his head when he asked to stay the night.

Jason sighed again, rubbing his forehead as if Dick's presence was personally responsible for all the stress in his life, "Fine I'll grab a pillow and blanket for you." Jason started to move to turn. No, that just wouldn't do. If he wanted to sleep in a separate room, he'd just go back to his own bed at the manor.

"Can I just sleep in your bed?" For most people that would be an awkward question, but for Dick that was really the only option that made sense. He liked to be able to hear loved ones when he slept. It was a left over from the childhood safety of his parents trailer. Everyone close enough he always knew where they where. Dick would volunteer to sleep somewhere else in the bedroom for Jason's comfort, but he had checked out the apartment when he arrived. The only other place to sleep was the floor.

"Are you freaking kidding me!" Jason yanked on his hair in exasperation.

"Please" Dick gave him the best pair of puppy dog eyes he could manage. He'd been told on multiple occasions that he should try and weaponize them if he ever planned on taking over the world.

"God dammit. Fine! If you steal the covers I will shoot you." Jason was giving him his serious face. As if threats would stop Dick.

Dick gave him a winning smile in return, "Thanks" he said. He meant it too. He gave Jason's arm a squeeze as he passed and headed to the bedroom.

"I'm serious." Jason turned and followed him, "I will shoot you if I wake up freezing and you're wrapped up in a blanket burrito"

Jason continued to grumble at him the whole time they got ready for bed, and Dick felt a thousand times better than when he'd first stepped into the apartment for it. A dead Jason couldn't engage in back and forth or threaten his life and limb for the crime of blanket stealing. Jason's grouchiness was a constant reminder that his brother was okay now. As soon as they were both in bed, Dick threw his arm over Jason's chest and curled in against his side. It was something he had done to all his loved ones at some point. Snuggling up to sleep was a universal human language for I'm here, you're here, and we both care. With their lives, it was something that he didn't get to say verbally enough.

"Could you at least wait until I'm asleep before you do your human octopus act" Jason grouched. The fact it didn't get said often enough didn't mean that said various loved ones wouldn't complain about it. Something about the big bad vigilante ego, tended not to lend itself well to cuddling. Dick let his feelings on the matter of said ego be known, by throwing his leg over Jason's in addition to the hold he already had. If Jason really didn't want to cuddle, he could throw Dick off. Otherwise he was going to sleep with his little brother safe and sound in his arms.

"I hate you" There was no venom in Jason's tone.

"Love you too Little Wing" Dick whispered. He buried his head into Jason's chest, and let his brother’s breathing lull him to sleep.


	2. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ended up getting inspired this morning and pounded out another chapter. Even have a fairly clear idea what the next one is going to look like.

Jason woke up in a mild panic. Something had trapped his legs and was pinning his right arm. He had his knife out from under his pillow and ready to stab whatever had decided a sleeping Red Hood would be an easy target, before he'd even opened his eyes. What greeted him was, well, something out of the start of a couple very good dreams he’d had over the years. Dick Grayson, his predecessor in the scaly panties and eldest in the eternally growing brood of orphan vigilantes Bruce couldn't seem to stop himself from picking up, was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and using Jason as his own personal teddy bear. His right arm was less pinned and more asleep from where Dick way laying on it, and apparently, Dick had taken his threats last night to heart. Instead of stealing the blankets, he'd worked them into knots around their calves, locking one of Dick's legs in between his own.

Fucking hell, Jason was not a strong enough man to suppress a reaction to such a sight. Dick was a work of art. Lean muscle wrapped in gorgeous tan skin decorated with scars like trophies from his long vigilante career. It tightened Jason's gut to look at them. Each one was a story of some scum testing Dick only to fail. Jason focused on one in particular. A long sliver of a scar running diagonally across his right side, over his ribs. Probably caused by the downward stroke of knife or maybe even a sword. You never knew in their line of work.

Jason's throat dried as he imagined how the fight could have gone down. Some punk thinking he's hot stuff landing a knife on a distracted Nightwing. Only to realize too late he was out of his league. Dick would take him down hard and fast, but not so fast he couldn't show off first. He'd probably use the guy's shoulders as a springboard for an unnecessary flip, so he could knock out a few of the criminal's buddies first. He had to have friends. He wouldn't have been able to touch Dick otherwise. He'd use them against each other. Slamming two of their heads together with a quip and a laugh that showed off his teeth, clearly enjoying himself. Then he'd turn to the last guy. He would use that weird mix of one handed handstand and boot to the face that he was so fond of. The vivid image of Dick dealing out violence with a smile more than got his motor running. He found himself running his fingers down the long scar, feeling the heat of Dick's skin under his fingers and pressed along his side. It was only a sleepy tightening of Dick's grip across his waist that made Jason realize exactly what he was doing. He yanked his hand back like it had been burned. Shame roiling deep in his gut, as he quickly checked to make sure Dick was still asleep.

His time with Bruce may have smoothed out some of the worst aspects of his childhood, but the fact of the matter was, he'd grown up in a place were being openly gay set you up as less of a man. If you weren't willing to become a flaming queen and take the beatings from that, you ran the risk of threatening some gangbanger's rep with his buddies and ending up dead in the gutter. No one would mourn some idiot who couldn't keep his proclivities under wraps. Crime Alley had roles, if you failed to live up to them it would take your life. No matter how far Jason got away from that place, he'd always have that panicked knee jerk reaction that something was wrong with him. That fear, that if anyone found out, he'd be cut from their lives or possibly lose his own.

It wasn't even that he was some blushing virgin who'd never acted on his impulses either. Talia and the League of Assassins, while tending to set up shop in places that liked to throw their deviants off tall buildings, had an entirely different definition of gay than Gotham. As long as he wasn't catching, no one cared who he decided to sleep with. He'd ended up caving to his fucked up desires and experimenting with a lot of different types of people while he trained under her. Never bottoming of course, he'd seen how she just conveniently happened to assign the suicide missions to her male underlings who crossed that line. He'd needed her help arranging training and planning his revenge too much at the time to risk her displeasure over something so easily avoided.

Since coming back, he'd been either too busy cleaning up the streets for it to matter, or with plenty of female options to distract from the male ones. The Outlaws had been that way. Roy had been good looking but so had Starfire, and she came with the great bonus of not having to reveal something that could lead to disgust in one of his only friends at the time. Not that Roy would be disgusted. He knew logically the guy wouldn't care even if the attraction wasn't reciprocated, but…yeah…there was knowing and then there was knowing.

What he did know for certain was that one Dick Grayson would be disgusted if he knew what Jason was thinking. Dick's scarcity at the manor or Gotham during Jason's Robin days, along with puberty and that chest revealing Discowing outfit, may have left Jason with less than familial feeling towards Bruce's eldest ward, but Dick was way too fond of calling him 'Little Brother' for there to be any doubts on exactly how Dick viewed him. In Dick's world, they were brothers. Only a sick individual would want to sleep with their brother. And he was a very sick individual.

Dick had been messed up last night. Looking to Jason for something that wasn't a starring role in his fantasies. His tired brain might have taken a few minutes to catch on, but even infamously touch oriented Dick Grayson didn't just show up at random demanding to sleep with people for no reason. Especially not people like Jason, who barely qualified as a member of the bat clan most days. Hell, the last time Dick had cuddled up in bed to him like that, not simply passed out on whoever was closest during a movie marathon, had been right before Dick went off planet and Jason had died in Ethiopia. He’d been having a nightmare about his real mother's death, the one who raised him, and Dick had overheard. After waking him, Dick had ended up spending the night, just being a warm presence to help chase the nightmares away. Of course, he'd woken up similarly turned on that time too, despite Dick wearing significantly more clothing, but he had a teenage libido to blame at the time. More importantly he'd been the one in need of comfort. He hadn't been taking advantage of Dick's obvious distress to get his perv on.

"Itsh too early to get up," Jason jerked as Dick's voice broke through his self-hatred party. Dick was awake and blinking owlishly at him. The hair on the left side of his head alternately matted flat and sticking straight up from where it had been resting on Jason's chest. His mouth was in a small pout, obviously not pleased to be up before the crack of noon.

Jason tensed. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stay right here with Dick and look him in the eyes, while he had just been fantasizing about him. It felt like he was violating his trust just being in the same room. He needed to get out now. "I'm making breakfast, do you want pancakes or waffles?" Knowing Dick, he'd pass out again until the aroma of food woke him back up. Jason could take all the time he needed to get his head back on straight, and maybe then, he could satisfy his lingering curiosity on his nighttime visitor with an early morning interrogation.

"Breakfast?" Dick took a second to process, then he squinted at the digital clock beside Jason's bed, "Jay it's eight." Jason was getting definite dejavu vibes. Before he could place when he had had a similar conversations, Dick's eyes widened and he tightened his grip. He'd caught onto Jason's escape attempt and was very against the idea. Dick looked practically scared of Jason leaving the room. Anger boiled up bright and sharp at the realization. He was going to have to kneecap someone tonight. There might be no familial feelings from his side of the fence, but everyone associated with the bat was his. He didn't take kindly to Arkham rejects harming any of them. He'd known Dick for a long time, and he didn't get this clingy unless someone died or was severely injured. As soon as he figured out who had gotten him in such a tizzy. He was going to pay them a nice visit, or if they were lucky enough to be locked up, he might just settle for blowing up a couple of their bases and wrecking a few of their favorite operations. Half the time, the dress ups were more upset by loosing their toys than getting their bones broken.

The sudden anger gave him the escape route he'd been searching for. If he focused on knocking down whoever screwed up Dick, he didn't have to think about his own problems. Unfortunately, he had never been good at hiding when he was angry, so it came as no surprise that Dick startled in response to his emotional swing. "Did I piss you off?" Dick's voice was soft as he started to sit up, disentangling himself from Jason at the same time. He gave himself a mental head slap. Idiot probably thought he was angry at him.

Before he could get too far away, Jason grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back down. "Not you I'm mad at Goldie." He confessed. No point denying the anger. As had already been shown, his poker face wouldn't hold up to scrutiny right now.

Dick hesitated a second and then curled back around him. Happy as a clam. They seriously needed to get the man a stuffed animal, "You sure?" Dick said slightly muffled from where he'd buried his head back into Jason's chest.

Jason couldn't quiet hide the sigh, "Yes, I'm sure." he replied.

"You're absolutely sure?" Dick continued. Damn insecure bastard.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong." Jason countered. He was going to wait until they'd both gotten more sleep to start questioning, but if Dick was insistent on having the conversation right now.

"Nothing's wrong" Came the instant reply. Yeah, that's what he thought.

"Then go back to sleep. Your fans will lynch me if you don't get your beauty rest." As would most of the batfamily if said lack of sleep got Dick hurt. He was fully aware of where he fell on most people's priorities list, and he didn't blame them.

"Are you su-" "Dick I swear to god, if you don't shut up and go back to sleep I will sedate you." The asshole actually grinned at him. How the fuck Dick managed to maintain the image as the nice one was beyond Jason. Anyone who spent more than ten seconds with the bastard should know what a troll he was. He was so damn lucky he was pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I hope you enjoyed. Pretty sure this wasn't what you guys where talking about when you asked for a continuation, but it explored somethings I wanted to see done for a while, so yeah.
> 
> If things go as planned, the next chapter should be from Damian's point of view and contain a lot less self-hatred and angst.


	3. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason isn't the only one who wishes to pay Scarecrow a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy. This idea is one I've had for a while, but I wasn't certain how to set it up. Then it just fit, and you got this chapter. Enjoy!

Todd was pitifully easy to find. His patrols, while irregular in time, always went through areas in the Narrows with unusually high concentrations of prostitutes and homeless children. Damian’s training in psychology, begun in the League of Assassins then continued and expanded under Father, pointed to Todd seeing himself in the denizens he tried to save. Each child and prostitute an attempt to rescue his younger self and adoptive mother. Damian understood the principles at play, but he considered the logic fatally flawed. His Father might have an overly soft heart that led him to open his home to every orphan with a sad face, but his Mother was much more selective in who she chose to aid. If she deemed Todd worthy to use the Lazarus pit, then his potential far outstripped those he dedicated his life to saving. Any similarities were merely superficial. Mother did not waste her time on the weak.

Once he understood the pattern, locating Todd became a simple matter of monitoring the police bands for a night both the Red Hood was active and Robin was not expected to patrol with Batman. If he had meant Todd harm, it would have been a perfect opportunity to lure him into a trap. As he did not currently want the Red Hood maimed or dead, he had merely chosen a hidden overlook of one of the areas and settled into wait. Father’s second Robin was skittish. He would turn heel and flee, if he became aware of Damian’s presence before Damian became aware of his.

Unfortunately, knowing where he would appear was not the same as knowing when. Damian was forced to maintain watch for several hours, before the Hood finally made his appearance. Even then, he had to wait patiently for Todd to draw closer to his perch. If he failed to speak with Todd now, this discussion would have to be delayed until the next time he patrolled. After the crowbar incident, everyone was wary of telling him where the Red Hood’s current base of operations was. Whoever he asked would certainly demand an explanation of why he wished to speak to him, and this was not a conversation he wanted either Grayson or his Father being aware of.

When the elder vigilante took up residence on a rooftop less than a swing away, Damian shifted into action. Todd’s back was turned to him on the far side of the building, watching the street below for signs of criminal activity. He didn’t see the flash of yellow as Damian leapt down. When he was his Batman, Grayson had taught him how exactly to muffle the sound of an entrance while wearing a cape. He had declared it an essential Robin skill to be able to sneak up on Commissioner Gordon no matter how many obnoxiously bright flapping pieces of cloth were currently tied to his body. The stealth training had been highly useful in taking down criminals, and though he was loathe to admit it, making the Commissioner jump had been ‘fun’. Now as he landed and rolled, what few unavoidable sounds he made were quiet enough to be masked by the background noise of the city. Todd remained oblivious to his approach.

Silent as a shadow, he crossed the roof to where Todd was preparing to take off once more. He stopped just out of striking range and cleared his throat, “Hood.”

The Red Hood’s mask hid his facial expression, but he couldn’t disguise his surprise as he whirled to face Damian. He pulled one of his pistols and aimed it at Damian’s center of mass, “What the-Jesus Christ kid! Don’t sneak up on me like that! I could have shot you.” He exclaimed.

Damian gave a pointed dismissive look to the gun, now pointed at his head, before he raised his eyes to stare at the lens of Todd’s mask, “No you couldn’t have.” He stated, “I am here to make an arrangement with you.”

Jason lowered the gun, placing it back into his holster. It was foolish to dismiss him as a threat, but he resisted the urge to tell Todd so. He was not here to ensure the vigilante’s safety, “And you couldn’t just call? Of course you couldn’t. What exactly do you want? And I gotta warn you. If you’re here to propose an alliance to kill the Replacement, you’ve missed your window of opportunity. Me and him have an understanding nowadays.” Todd said.

“I would hardly need your help in killing Red Robin,” Damian scrunched his nose at the idea. He wasn’t certain he would be upset if Drake died, but he had come to realize that his family’s sadness at the third Robin’s death would far outweigh any benefits he might gain from it, “Father says that you are attempting to capture Scarecrow.” Damian paused a moment before continuing, giving Todd a chance to deny it, “Red Robin believes that you are doing so to avenge Nightwing’s honor. I wish to aid you in this endeavor.”

“Avenge Nightwings honor? Seriously,” Jason said, “He’s not a freaking princess in a tower. I’m kicking Scarecrow’s ass because he needs to know pulling shit like this has consequences. It’s not some personal honor crap or any other weird reason you can come up with.” Todd looked defensive to Damian’s eyes. Body language guarded. His statements a little too forceful and specific to be completely genuine. He would have to investigate this later. Possibly discuss it with Pennyworth. The butler could be trusted to not ask questions about the situation surrounding his confusing observation. That would be later. For now, he was here on business.

“Your search for Scarecrow is related to his use of fear toxin on Nightwing, correct.” Damian said.

“Look brat, what I’m doing and why I’m doing it doesn’t matter, because I’m not dragging you along with me. Now scoot along back to Daddy before he notices you flew the coop.” Hood made a shooing motion at him, “I don’t need an overprotective Bat breathing down my neck tonight.”

Todd’s need to be difficult was as predictable as it was annoying. Damian had come prepared for this eventuality, though. “Father is spending several days off world with the Justice League. I have taken the opportunity to secure his files containing Red Robin’s, Nightwing’s, and his own reports on Scarecrow’s current activities.” Damian pulled the thumbdrive from his belt, displaying it to Todd before securing it once more, “He is currently in hiding working on one of his formulas. Attempting to locate him without these files would take you weeks. With them, you could find him as soon as tomorrow night. Batman has been holding off on his arrest in an attempt to find his supplier.” Damian had been furious when he’d been informed of the decision. There were always more corrupt individuals willing to lend material aid to super villains for obscene amounts of money. The capturing of this specific one was of little importance. It would do nothing to stem the tide of supplies available, “The thumbdrive is password encrypted, but if you are willing to work with me, I will unlock it for you tomorrow. Meeting location of your choice. We can plan, then take down Scarecrow together that night.”

Todd crossed his arms tilting his head, as if to inspect Damian more closely. He couldn’t see his face, but the stance read as skeptical, “Sounds like you’ve got this all planned out.” Todd said carefully, “Just tell me one thing, if you already know where he is, why didn’t you go after him yourself? Don’t think you can handle one itty bitty villain on your own? You didn’t strike me as the type to come running to big brother for help.”

Damian glared at him. Not that his eyes could be seen from behind the lenses of the domino, but the man should be well versed in reading faces under masks. The sentiment would be clear, “I promised Nightwing I would not attempt to capture Scarecrow alone.” Damian ground out. The promise had been made during the few days after Grayson had been poisoned with fear toxin, when he couldn’t seem to be in the same room as Damian without petting his hair, hugging him, or telling him how much he loved him. Grayson had been staring at him over breakfast, looking as if he thought at any moment Damian would vanish into thin air. He had snapped. Abandoned his food and gone in search of his katana. Fully intent on gutting the villain responsible for Grayson’s distress. He had been dressing in his Robin garb, when Grayson had caught up to him. Spinning him around and asking, not ordering, for him to stop. He spoke to him about how his mood wouldn’t get better if his baby brother ended up hurt or hallucinating himself. Damian had tried to tell him that he was more than a match for Crane, but Grayson had just looked at him sad and heartbroken. He’d caved without meaning to. Promising not to go after him alone, anything just to wipe that expression from his face. He intended to keep his word to his mentor, if not the spirit of his promise. Grayson had obviously wanted him to wait for Batman to go after Scarecrow, but Todd fulfilled the technicalities of his words just as well. His willingness to disobey Father’s wishes to hold off on an arrest, only made him a more perfect candidate for the job.

After his confession, the Red Hood just stared at him for a moment. Then he snorted a laugh, “Yeah, Goldie’s pretty hard to say no to when he turns on the puppy dog eyes isn’t he?” Todd held his hand out for Damian to shake, “Looks like you got yourself a deal short stuff.”

—————————————————————————————————————————

Despite the infrequency of their team ups, Todd made an acceptable partner. He didn’t have the history working with him necessary to predict his movements, but Todd’s time training under both his Mother and Father had left him with a repertoire of moves and combat styles that Damian was familiar with. He would not wish to test their team work against the likes of Croc, but Crane relied on his gases and surprise to defend himself. Their masks would protect them from the gas, and the element of surprise belonged to them. It would do.

Scarecrow had set up his lab in the basement of a dilapidated apartment building. It had been long abandoned to the worst elements of Gotham, and then evacuated by even them when Crane moved in. The ripples of disturbances caused by the drug addicts moving out in search of new places to get high was what had drawn Batman’s attention to this location in the first place. Like a predator’s approach is signaled by the smaller prey’s flight or calls of distress, Supervillain’s couldn’t move about without the less dangerous criminal classes fleeing or whispering warnings to their fellows. If you knew where to listen, no man was impossible to locate.

They entered through a broken window on the second floor. From there, they worked their way to the stairwell with utmost care. Crane was fond of using traps, as opposed to hired criminals, to secure his labs. A moment of inattention could easily set one off. The gas mask he brought left the possibility of a fear toxin a non-issue, but the costumed criminals that infested Gotham were known for their death traps. Stepping into a trip wire could just as easily spray gas as a launch a dozen knives.

They found a few hidden under various debris, but once they reached the first floor, the traps all but disappeared. Damian held up a hand, signaling for Todd to wait. He had a suspicion that he quickly confirmed. There was a completely clear path from a back entrance in the complex to the basement door. It was unlike Scarecrow to prepare such a route. He preferred to memorize the locations of his traps and simply avoid them upon entering and exiting his lair. The rest of the building conformed to Crane’s standard set up, with small pressure pads hidden under rugs and strings tied to doorknobs, but this one path was completely unobstructed. Damian relayed his observation to Todd.

“You said B wasn’t arresting him because he wanted his supplier, right?” Jason whispered, “Maybe that guy is making a delivery run tonight. He’d need a clear path to get the goods to the basement.” Damian thought about it a moment, then nodded. It was a reasonable explanation. Scarecrow was a wanted fugitive, and it would run much less risk for him to have materials brought to him as opposed to him going to the supplier.

With that settled, they doubled back to the stair well and descended towards the basement. The entrance to the basement proper was secured behind an old wooden door slowly rotting away to the elements. Where the walls surrounding it weren’t damp, they were covered in a moss that he couldn’t instantly recognize. Damian was hit by a sense of unease. Crane was insane, but he was wholly dedicated to his art. Anything he created here was bound to be contaminated by particulates in the air. For a split second, he almost called the sting off. Asked to retreat and come back with Batman later, but no, he couldn’t lose face in front of Todd. He may not be the most respected member of his Father’s family, that honor belonged to Father, Grayson, and Cain in that order, but Todd’s skill and viciousness had earned him a high enough position in Damian’s eyes that his opinion carried some weight. He would not show weakness in front of him.

Todd held his ear to the door, listening carefully for any possible surprises. From his place further back all Damian could hear were a rat’s desperate squeaking as what sounded like Crane hummed a tune. Nothing else made itself apparent. Crane was probably running experiments then. He would be distracted, granting them an advantage. Now was the perfect time to strike.

They took up positions on opposite sides of the door. Todd gave a silent count to three, then threw open the door from the safety of cover. When nothing exploded, he barreled in gun drawn. Damian followed on his heels. The wrongness he had felt earlier came back ten fold, the basement was like no lab he’d ever seen. Every square inch of the walls, ceiling, and floor was covered in the same moss he had observed outside. Crane was standing over a cage with a terrified lab rat, snarling at them in rage, but no materials surrounded him. There were no beakers, no chemical containers, no bunson burners. Just the moss, some lab animals, and Crane. Damian wasn’t given the time to figure out why, before he found his ankle gripped tight and yanked out from under him.

He recovered quickly enough, flipping over with a batarang in hand to stab at the thing holding his ankle. He never wished that the flame thrower was standard equipment for the utility belt more, than when he realized that wrapped around his ankle was a single writhing vine. A few feet beyond that, stood a predatory Poison Ivy. The smile she gave him reminded him of Croc or his Mother when seeing to the deaths of the Al’ghul’s enemies. His life meant nothing to her. His only purpose in her eyes was the enjoyment she wold gain from his pain. He severed the vine holding his foot with a quick slash, but she had caught him off guard. He was on the ground with no place to dodge, and her plants surrounded him. He sliced more vines attempting to bind him, struggling halfway to standing before he felt something tear his mask from his face. The air tasted wrong. Damian tried to hold his breath, but a solid blow to his stomach ended with him gasping.

More vines rushed him, grabbing at his arms and legs. They weren’t vines, though. Damian watched horrified as hands locked around him. Poison Ivy had been replaced with his mother, her expression one of utter disgust, “You are a disgrace.” She spat, before she turned away from him. He heard her beckoned to one of the shadows, “Damian.” A man took form at her call and walked forwards to stand by her side. His garb was that of the Heretic, but his face, his face was the one Damian always imagined would be his own when he was grown. She looked the man up and down approvingly “A true heir for the house of Al’Ghul, get rid of the spare.” She ordered dismissively, not even staying to watch. Damian remembered the sword raised to carry out his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm about half way through the first draft of the next chapter. We'll be switching back to Jason's point of view, for that one.
> 
> Let me know if you were confused by anything that happened.


	4. Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason deals with a fear gassed Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Jason's point of view. Spoilers, fear gas sucks.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Jason kept up a constant litany of curses as he ran. Damian was thrown over his shoulder, alternating between freezing stock still and struggling for all he was worth. Things had gone royally pear shaped. Turns out Scarecrow’s supplier was less a supplier and more of a villainous team up. As far as he could tell, that moss coating everything in the basement had been pumping fear gas into the air. Normally Crane’s concoctions would have been poisonous to plants, but it seems like he and Ivy had put their heads together and found a way around it. That was his best guess, at least. 

He’d been forced to beat a hasty retreat before they got a chance to monologue their evil plan, when Damian started screaming his mother’s name. He’d looked back to see the kid sans gas mask and bound at Ivy’s feet. A few bullets didn’t harm Ivy, she wasn’t really human enough to have such weaknesses, but it had hurt and distracted her. Gave him enough time to snag the kid and hit the stairs at a dead run. Fighting Ivy unprepared when one of them was already out of commission would have been suicidal. The enclosed space would have killed his ability to dodge, and he didn’t have the equipment on him to put her down and keep her down.

Now he was hauling ass across Gotham’s rooftops. He needed to get Damian to the closest safe house, administer the broad spectrum fear gas antidote, then strip him down and wash off any residue that might transfer to someone else. His retreat hadn’t given him an opportunity to snag a sample of the moss for analysis, but Damian had been rolling around in enough of the stuff while fighting off Ivy’s vines. If he tossed the Robin uniform in a double trash bag, it would have minimal chance of leaking large doses of anything. They could pull a sample off of it later, when he wasn’t trying to stop the kid from fighting off invisible assassins. It might even work as a peace offering for when he had to call Dick and tell him he got the babybat gassed. That was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

The safe house he dragged Damian into was, thankfully, one of his lesser used ones. If decontamination and the antidote didn’t work fairly quickly, he was going to have to move them to another location to prevent any left over traces from either prolonging the attack or you know infecting himself. He’d prefer not to have to abandon one of his main bases on top of the shitty night he was already having.

Disarming the security system, Jason shoved a struggling Damian through the window and rearmed it behind them. Damian got to his feet and stared at the glass behind him. He couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask, but he’d bet one of Alfred’s cookies that they were dilated to the point you couldn’t tell their color. Kid probably wasn’t even aware of the real world past the hallucinations. Fishing the antidote out from one of his internal pockets, he slowly approached Damian. Turns out he was wrong. As soon as the shot came into view, Damian yelled and threw a wild punch at his stomach. Grabbing his arm, Jason wrestled him to the ground, letting his body armor absorb the kicks and punches Damian threw in a desperate attempt to escape. When Damian began screaming in Arabic, he was forced to clasp one hand over the boys mouth and administer the shot with the other. The neighborhood was mostly full of the kind of people who minded their own business, but even the most jaded Gothamites had a limit. A kid screaming would convince someone to dial the cops, and a visit from the local boys in blue was the last thing either of them needed tonight.

The antidote would take about thirty minutes to an hour to kick in fully, if it did at all, but Damian’s breath had gotten sharp and quick after the needle entered his skin. With any luck he’d hyperventilate. The next few steps would be a lot easier if he was unconscious. Plus it’d be a few more minutes of terror that the kid wouldn’t have to experience. Jason wished he could just give him a sedative, but Crane had come up with a few formula’s over the years that would get stronger and nastier when mixed with one. It wasn’t worth the risk unless a blood test could be run to prove this wasn’t one of those varieties.

Jason waited a few minutes, but Damian didn’t end up passing out. His training was far too ingrained, even under the influence of fear toxin. Damian’s breathing slowed down from jack rabbit quick to a more manageable rate. He didn’t actually calm down. Instead he just went back to rigid quite terror. Jason tried not to think about what Damian was seeing that he wasn’t even trying to fight.

After he’d gotten back on the bat’s good side, Bruce had shared information on how to get everyone's suits off without getting electrocuted. It for situations exactly like the one he currently found himself in. A few quick presses and he was able to peel Damian out of his suit without having to test his own glove’s insulation against the suit’s defenses. Damian was wearing a pair of boxer underneath, and Jason really didn’t see any need to removed them. The suit was designed to prevent random chemicals from soaking through it to the skin beneath. He tossed the Robin outfit in the far corner and started to maneuver Damian to the bathroom. Washing any contaminates off that were left on his skin would help him recover faster.

He’d managed to drag the kid all the way to the shower before he started moving again. He didn’t start the frantic fighting from before. He just stared at his own chest, touching the scar near his heart with wide eyes, then staring at the fingers he touched it with. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was seeing, even before he started clutching his hands over the scar to prevent an imaginary blood flow. Pulling the kid to his side, he got the water up to a comfortable temperature, then pulled Damian into the shower with him. Everything he was wearing would have to be decontaminated anyways, so it didn’t matter much if it got wet.

Damian didn’t startle at the water. He remained locked inside his own hallucinated death. Jason set them both down on the floor of the shower and held Damian up to his chest. He didn’t think the demon brat was the type to take comfort from physical contact that didn’t come from Dick, but he didn’t want to risk the kid slipping or hurting himself if he started to struggle again. His caution proved reasonable, when not long after, some new hallucination took hold, and Damian started choking and clawing at phantoms in the air.

Yeah, this crap, this crap was why he refused to take killing completely off the table. Somewhere in Gotham, Crane and Ivy were laughing it up. Probably toasting each other on a job well done, while Jason got to sit on a shower floor letting water soak into his boots and body armor, just so he could try to hold the kid, god he was barely eleven, down enough he wouldn’t break his own bones kicking the tile walls. They may not be the bestest of buddies, but he’d never have wished this kind of thing on him even at his most pit mad. The whole situation just made him sick, angry, and even more determined to break both of Crane’s kneecaps. Maybe send a weekly bouquet a dead flowers to Ivy’s cell after throwing her back in Arkham, wouldn’t want to leave her out for her part in this.

-

Damian was dried off and under every blanket he could scrounge up when Jason finally caught a break. “Todd?” The voice was probably the weakest he’d ever heard it, but it was the first sign that Damian was even slightly aware of where he really was.

Jason had been double bagging the Robin costume, but he dropped it immediately to check on the boy. He pulled off his mask before leaning over him, “Hey, you back with me short stuff?”

Damian scrunched up his eyes peering at Jason as if he was trying to place something, “Am I in hell?” He said.

“Seriously?” Jason said in disbelief, “You see me and immediately assume this is hell. I may not be a saint, but I’m not that bad.” He actually thought himself quite good most days. Even if B didn’t agree.

“Oh, so I am not dead.” Damian said, and the implications of that statement were way about his ability to help. It was about time to call Dick anyways. Goldie would know just what to say to comfort the demon brat. Plus if he was busy impersonating a mother hen, he wouldn’t be able to skin Jason alive for getting them both into this situation in the first place.

Jason sighed, then gave the kid’s shoulder a squeeze, “Be right back, I’ve got to make a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this was originally supposed to have a second half, but I've probably rewritten it three different times now and I'm just not satisfied with the scene from Jason's point of view. So, I just decided to give you guys the first half, which I'm happy with, and continue to work on the second half. Probably will try switching characters again. That's the only way the second chapter got written.


	5. Hurricane Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick finds out what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter four different times, with different character perspective and time frames. Then I went back and read my first attempt, realized I liked the start of that one best and ended up making this. Le Sigh.

Hurricane Dick descended on the apartment in a flurry of concern. True to expectations, he bypassed Jason in a beeline to where Damian’s eyes where peeking out from under the pile of blankets. A few cooed questions later, and the Babybat was ensconed in Dick’s arms, blankets and all. Dick murmured to his bundled Boy Wonder too quietly for Jason to overhear, then finally turned his attention to Jason. “Sit” Dick said, pointing to a corner of the bed.

Jason grimaced. If it was Bruce or if he wasn’t feeling quiet as responsible as he was, he would of probably just left and sent the pertinent details through Oracle, shouting a couple choice insults on the way out the door. Actually being the party responsible for the night’s fuck ups, he moved to comply. He still had no intention of letting Dick lecture him. He knew where things went wrong and he was no one’s verbal punching bag, but he owed him an explanation, an in person run down of the night’s events.

Jason sat down, and Dick really looked at him, for the first time since he arrived. Eyes running him up and down stopping wherever he saw a scratch. There weren’t many, he’d changed out of his wet clothes while waiting for Dick to arrive, and the encounter with Ivy and Crane had ended before they could actually land anything on him. Anything visible was from old fights, half healed already. The examination stopped when their eyes met. Dick’s pretty blue eyes were always expressive, and now they were crinkled slightly in worry. No anger or accusation, he probably thought Jason had just happened to wander by and rescue Damian from Crane. Why couldn’t Bruce have been on planet? Sure the Batman would have probably started their encounter slamming him against a wall and accusing him of dosing the kid for shits and giggles, but that was a situation he was far more comfortable handling. Dick’s concern just made him feel like a cad, like he had kicked a puppy’s puppy.

Before he could do something embarrassing like babbling apologies, Jason broke eye contact and fell back into report mode. Disconnect and give the facts, “Scarecrows teamed up with Poison Ivy. He’s using her plants to create and deliver his gas. Normal antidote works.” He gestured to the trash bag holding Robin’s uniform, “You can get a sample of the plant in there. I know the Bat’s off world, but you can probably figure out a way to kill it with the equipment in the cave. The stuff would probably die just fine to weed killer or a flamethrower.” Jason had been pointedly looking anywhere but Dick as he spoke, so he was slightly surprised when Dick grasped his forearm lightly.

“Jay, what happened?” Dick said softly. A quick glance up showed that Dick still had nothing but concern plastered all over his face. It just-what was fucking wrong with him. He ripped his arm away and got up to pace the room.

“I didn’t see any signs of distribution methods, but they know we are onto them now. They’ll probably be putting their master plan into action ahead of time, so you need to take them out sooner than later. And Will You Stop Looking At Me Like That!” Dick was startled by Jason’s sudden outburst, but he at least stopped looking so god-forsaken concerned at him.

“Jason.” Dick’s face had hardened, his voice dropped the softness and took on Nightwing’s voice of command. Not Batman’s growl, but not something to ignore none the less, “What happened?” Jason knew Dick had finally caught on. Realized he wasn’t some innocent bystander. Now that he understood, he was asking for details. How badly had Jason fucked up. He couldn’t deny him that.

“Robin and I were after Crane. We got the jump on him, but I didn’t expect Ivy. She tore off Robin’s mask. The gas was in the air. I got us both out, but not before he was dosed.” He stared at a point between Dick’s feet as he confessed. The short flame of anger that had had him pacing the room had gone out as quickly as it was lit. Now he just felt guilty and small.

“Where you dosed?” Nightwing kept his professional tone.

“Kept my mask for the whole encounter, and everything was washed off and bagged before I took it off,” He wished he could blame his current feelings on Scarecrow. Having someone to blame would be so much easier.

“Grab the bag with the Robin costume, we are going to regroup at the Batcave.” Jason looked up as Dick stood from the bed and made his way to the window.

“We?” He asked.

Dick turned back, staring at him hard once again, “Robin needs to recover, Red Robin is with the Titans, and Batman is off planet. As you said, this needs to be taken care of as soon as possible, and I’ll need back up to take on both Poison Ivy and Crane.” Putting it that way, this was the only logical solution. He wouldn’t leave Dick alone in that fight. He grabbed the bag and they headed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun times with Jason and self-hatred. Did he get some second hand exposure to fear toxin from being in the room with Damian or is this all natural. Who can tell?
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the lack of updates on this story. It took me a bit to make my peace with this story. I was a bit (okay a lot) embarrassed by the second chapter and wasn't certain I was ready to tell that kind of story. I think I am now, so hopefully this will end up having an ending after all.


	6. Revenge 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having failed to learn their lesson. Dick and Jason go after Scarecrow and Ivy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What decides how fast a new chapter gets written? I have no clue. This just got finished today and much longer than originally expect, for no reason that I can tell.

Dick was barely suppressing the urge to deck Jason and forcibly administrate the fear gas antidote. Jason claimed he hadn’t been dosed. He claimed he hadn’t taken his mask off until it was safe, but his constant switching between guilty stares off into the distance and angry glares at the plant samples had Dick convinced something was screwing with his emotions.

The only reason he hadn’t forced the issue was because he was almost certain that Jason would have left the cave in a huff, if he tried. Then, without a doubt, he would decide to take on Scarecrow and Poison Ivy on his own. Dick knew Jason’s tendencies to do stupid things when he was pissed off. It was why he’d told him to be his back up in the first place. There were plenty of local vigilantes he could of asked for help that he wasn’t currently mad at-Oh was he mad, Jay should have known that Bruce had a good reason not to take down Crane-, but if he wasn’t with him, they were going to end up with either some dead villains or a dosed Red Hood. Dick would break his own arm before he’d let Jay go through that. If he was honest with himself, he kinda wanted to break Jason’s arm for letting Damian go through that.

That wasn’t a completely fair reaction, he knew. Dick himself had been unsuccessful in preventing the youngest from jumping the gun on a Scarecrow capture, how could he expect Jay to succeed at convincing him, where he had failed. He was supposed to be the favorite after all. Fat lot of good it had done him. Baring his fears and worries over this exact situation had done nothing but persuade his littlest brother to find someone else to help him. Now Dami was curled on the cot in the cave medical area trying to sleep off the lingering nerves of the fear gas. He hadn’t wanted to leave the circle of Dick’s arms at all, but he’d been convinced to settle for sleeping in the same room while Dick worked. It’d be days before he was completely over hallucinating his worst fears. Dick knew, because he’d just gone through this himself and he’d told Dami why he didn’t want him to go after Scarecrow. God damnit Jay. He hadn’t had to talk Damian out of it. He could of just contacted Dick and let him know what he had been up to. Dick would have figured something out to stop him, if he’d just been aware of what was happening.

Dick blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand through his hair. He needed to do something productive, now. He was currently waiting on the computer to finish analyzing Ivy’s moss, but the spiral of anger at both his brothers was going to drive him crazy if he didn’t distract himself. Shoving out the chair, Dick spun around and searched the room for Jason’s current position. Seemed they were back to guilty stares off into Damian’s vague direction. Well good, he should feel guilty.

Standing up he approached Jason, making sure to be within his peripheral vision. Didn’t need to add broken bones or stabbings to the already horrible night. “Hood,” Dick said, keeping the anger out of his voice only thanks to years of running a double life. Masking emotions was lesson #1 in not accidentally outing yourself. “Help me carry supplies from the arsenal.”

Jason didn’t jump at his voice, instead merely turning to look at him in confusion. That was a good sign. If he had been jumpy in the relative safety of the cave, Dick wasn’t certain how he’d be out in the field later that night, “The results are back?” He asked, looking behind Dick to the computer and then back to his face.

“No, but we can gather up general anti-monster plant supplies and come up with a few possibilities of attack until we have more information.” Dick replied. Knowing how both Ivy and Crane liked to make their creations, most the devices they were going to haul out would have to be discarded as very bad ideas once they knew more. Still better than sitting around and twiddling his thumbs.

Looked like Jason was just as desperate for a distraction as he was. Without another word he turned and headed to the Bat arsenal with Dick. Jay didn’t give him any back talk or teasing as they hauled out anything that could possibly be useful. It was disconcerting to see him so subdued. It made Dick want to hug him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. Except, you know, it was. Jason was an adult while Damian was a child. He was supposed to be the responsible one of the two. Damnit, this was meant to be distracting him from the anger spiral not making it worse.

Plan, focus on the bloody planning and not who is responsible for what. Having a shouting match wouldn’t help anything right now. Not that it looked like Jay would shout back right now, which wouldn’t that make him the big brother of the year.

Dick started grouping the supplies by function. It was a little less mindless and a little more distracting than his previous distraction, and when he spotted the incendiary device a wonderful idea bloomed. “How flammable did you take the building Crane’s holed up in as?” He held up the device for Jason’s inspection.

Jason took it from him flipping it over, probably reading off exactly what its fuel was and how big of a flame it’d produce. Didn’t do to not know exactly how much fire was about to be produced, when deciding how far away you needed to be before setting something off. “Old, mostly wood, seems to predate sprinkler systems,” Jason looked up at him with his first small smile of the night, “You thinking of hosting a barbecue, Wing?”

Dick met Jay’s small smile with his own, “It’s certainly a pleasant image,” He plucked the device out Jason’s hands, “Grab the blue prints for the building and we can try to figure out how to turn the place into a pile of ash without taking most of the neighborhood with it.” Pyromaniac revenge, the great family bonding experience.

Things went much smoother after that. They found the perfect spot to start a fire and wipe out the entire batch of toxin plants, and then moved on to developing several other plans of equal effectiveness, if not as cathartic. Well except the one about asking Superman to throw a rock at the site from orbit. That one got nixed due to difficulty of getting Ivy and Crane out before the rock hit. Jason didn’t see the need, but Dick wasn’t going to break his no killing streak over this. It would set a bad example for Damian and Tim.

The bat computer bleeped right about the time they were debating filling the entire basement with concrete. It had finally finished analyzing both the gas produced by the plant and the plant itself. Dick jogged over and plopped himself down in the chair to read its report. Huh, looks like they were in luck. The gas was pretty run of the mill as far as fear toxins went. Jason had been right, the normal antidote would do just fine. The moss was rather unique in how unaffected by the toxin it was, but other than that it lacked the hardiness commonly found in Ivy’s plants. It would burn quite easily if torched, with minimal nasty side effects beyond a small release of gas. No one who wasn’t standing right beside it while it burned would be effected. It was also weak to some common weed killers Bruce had preloaded for easy distribution. It looked like they should have no problem nipping this new strain in the bud.

Grinning and spinning his chair around, Dick shouted to the cave’s other conscious occupant, “Jay! Looks like we’re having smores!”

-

Despite his earlier implications, burning down the building was supposed to be plan B. Torching the place had its appeal in his revenge fantasies, but fires in big cities were dangerous. Even if the building was abandoned except for super villains and they tipped off the Fire Department in time, there was still a chance something could get out of hand and innocents could get hurt. It was the kind of risky that involved other’s safety instead of his own, so plan A was Weed Killer bomb in the basement. Poison the plants to death and make sure nothing would grow down there for a couple years to come. Building was already condemned. No kid was going to be running around licking the walls. Especially after the police got through with the place.

They entered through a first floor window right before dawn. Jay had given Dick a more detailed explanation of the first fight while they planned, and they had both agreed that a new entry point was probably wise. Crane would be on high alert after the run in with Robin and Red Hood earlier that night. If he hadn’t abandoned the place already he would have doubled up on his traps in preparation for their next visit. If they were lucky, Ivy had left back to her own lair, and they’d just have one super villain to deal with tonight.

They weren’t lucky. As Dick quietly edged into the main hall leading to the stairs, he heard a quiet rustle off to his side. It was all the warning he got. Dick threw himself across the hall, spinning to meet the threat, while a vine whiffed through the spot he’d just occupied. It curled in mid air changing trajectory to follow him, then suddenly spasmed and fell limply to the ground. He couldn’t see Jay’s face behind the Red Hood’s mask, but as Jason hefted his machete back up from hacking the vine off its base, he was certain he was getting smirked at. Dick had objected to him bringing it, but after multiple promises that he wouldn’t use it on anything but Ivy’s plants, Dick had conceded and let it be brought along. Yeah, he was definitely getting smirked at.

Moving away from Jay, Dick scanned the area for more threats. He spotted a couple more vines snaked around various detritus, before springing out to try and pin him down. He jumped, rolled, and dodged them with ease, letting Jason pick them off one by one. He couldn’t see Ivy anywhere, but she had to be close. The vines were ignoring Hood, focusing on him, showing an intelligence they were incapable of without her direct supervision. Targeting him specifically made sense, he was wearing a bandolier of the Weed Killer bombs, after all. They’d been too big to fit in his suit’s normal hiding spots, so he’d been forced to put them on display. Jason was carrying some as well, having extras was a must in these sorts of plans, but they were less obvious to casual observation. Dick was the one prancing around with the big obvious here to mess up your evil plan devices strapped to him. It didn’t matter. The vines weren’t even close to actually catching him, and he and jay were making steady forward progress despite them.

They were about half-way to the stairwell, Jason just a little bit ahead of him due to his relatively unimpeded movement. Dick was springing over one of the thicker vines, when the wall beside him exploded. Dick dived forward on nothing but instinct rolling up to stand by Jason. Behind him a writhing wall of vines had emerged, quickly disappearing what looked like a black cloth into their mass. Dick felt his chest. Bare except for his costume. Crud, they’d just lost Dick’s supply of bombs. Jason’s alone should technically be enough to pull off the plan, but losing his margin of error wasn’t good. Dick wasn’t given long to think about it, as more individual vines punched through the walls up and down the hall. When a giant hole was ripped close to the stair well entrance, Dick wasn’t even surprised to see Ivy stroll out.

“What now boys?” She said with a cocky smile. Dick wondered when villains would stop assuming that he didn’t have a back up plan. Even if said back up plan was winging it, he’d been at this game long enough that Ivy especially should know better.

“So Hood, which you want, spray for weeds or whack them?” They could take out Ivy together, then move onto the basement, but it was always better to do these things fast. If Ivy was still here, Crane was still here. It was best not to give him time to do something stupid or endangering to their health.

“Eh, you know me. If I have to garden, I’d rather do it with sharp objects.” Jason dug the bombs out of his jacket and tossed them to Dick. They were roped together for easier carrying. Wasn’t as good as the bandolier he’d been using, but it would do.

With a grin and a salute he was off, Jason right behind him. Sometimes with folks like Ivy, the best thing to do was get right up in their face. She wasn’t a fist fighter, and if it looked like you were going to try and force her to, she tended to pull her plants in for protection. Leaving nice gaps in the path she was trying to block off for acrobatic vigilantes like Nightwing to take advantage of. If she didn’t move to protect herself, you just punched her in the face and took advantage of that gap.

Dick broke through to the other side and leapt into the stairwell, as Jason barreled into her defenses and started chopping. Heroes 1, Villains 0. Dick got about one whole second of elation over his success.

Jason’s bundle contained enough weed killer to poison all the moss Jay and Dami had seen earlier that night. They’d pulled blue prints and calculated how much was necessary to ensure eradication of the strain. Unfortunately, Ivy had been busy in the meantime. The moss now extended up the stairwell as far as Dick could see. If he still had his payload in addition to Jason’s this wouldn’t have been a problem, but that was lost to who knows where by now. Well, at least it seemed to be a touchy enough breed she hadn’t been able to force grow it all the way across Gotham. They could have had to test Batman’s mass antidote system tonight instead. Bruce would have never trusted him with Gotham again.

Guess it was time for plan B. If he could have seen his smile, Damian would have called him an idiot. He would have definitely criticized how many vaults and walls he utilized to get down a single set of stairs, but what was the point of the job if you couldn’t enjoy it. The door to the basement was open and Crane was busy gathering his supplies as Dick bounced into the room with a flair. Despite the trap waiting for them, neither super villain probably expected them to come back tonight. If the threat had been a little less urgent, they probably wouldn’t have. So Crane was quiet clearly panic packing before an escape attempt.

Dick didn’t give Scarecrow a chance to fight or run, before he could turn, Dick had him in a choke hold and was waiting for him to pass out. Few zip ties later and Crane wasn’t going anywhere fast. He’d carry the villain out with him when he left the basement. Toss him outside on the pavement for the cops at the first opportunity.

One of the nice things about the specific weed killer they’d brought was that it had the property of being highly flammable. Crack open the bombs, more like dispensers but bomb was more fun to say, so they wouldn’t explode and potentially put the fire out and they made a nice poisonous accelerant. If Ivy tried to back track and put out the flames she’d end up in pretty bad straights. Wasn’t likely to kill her like a normal human, but would make knocking her down and tying her up a walk in the park.

Dick put the finishing touches on a couple of remote controlled incendiary devices and headed out with Crane tossed over one shoulder. Not much had changed when he reached the first floor. Ivy was still screeching about how the Red Hood was a monster for cutting up her babies, and Jay was making salad jokes. Generally, it was a bad idea to set a building on fire while you were still inside, but Dick wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. A press of a button and there was a small boom from the basement. Ivy whipped her head around eyes wide and panicked, then slumped to the ground as Jason whacked her upside the head with the flat of the machete. She’d live.

“Tie her up and get moving. Had to switch to plan B.” Dick said, striding towards the front door. Good thing about all of Ivy’s vines. They seemed to have set off every trap in the place.

“We need to take a commemorative photo for the baby bat, once it really gets going.” Jason shouted after him. Binding Ivy’s limbs, then jogging to catch up with his own burden. “Maybe we could get it framed and send copies to help these two decorate their Arkham Cells.”

“Don’t taunt the super villains Hood,” Dick chided.

“Seriously, Big Bird, you’ve got no room to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably one or two chapters left. Looking forward to getting this story off my to do list.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is extremely welcome. Critical and non-critical, grammar & spelling or story wise. I want the best story out here I can put out.
> 
> My Tumblr: http://ilovelocust.tumblr.com/


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